


Sunflower

by AngelsandMoose



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Post-Battle of Five Armies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 20:24:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2164023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelsandMoose/pseuds/AngelsandMoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Battle of the Five Armies has ended, what has it taken?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunflower

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I have to thank my very good friend/roleplay partner who gave me this horrible (wonderful) idea of what could happen after BofA. She and I roleplay a Fili/Bofur already, and we were just rambling around with ideas and this happened. Wrote it all in one go, made myself cry, it's been an eventful night. (It's almost 7am and I haven't slept)  
> Secondly, I would just suggest that this was written while listening to "Then You Look At Me" by Celine Dion. It sets the mood and actually gives a very good narrative into the minds of the characters.  
> Lastly, I did in fact list Bilbo and Thorin together as a couple for this, but it's only mentioned. Sorry.  
> Please enjoy and, what do you know, this is my first published Hobbit work! I'm working on two others (same ships) so hopefully this one won't be all alone.  
> Oh--Also, this story isn't beta'd at all, and like I said was written in one go at like 5AM. Any grammatical errors or misspellings can be fixed later.

His body felt like rock. Stronger than that of which he had mined all those years ago, stronger than the mountains he had scaled to travel to this place, only to have it bring death upon everything he loved. The adrenaline from the battle left like dead leaves to a cold breeze, unforgiving and silent. Kneeling within the sea of bodies and blood and gore, his hands held tight against the wound of another.

“You’re alright, I’m still right here,” His voice was hollow and quick, as if the air had still been knocked from him “Look at me—Keep your eyes open, Fíli.”

The once handsome golden-haired prince lay on the cold, hard, unforgiving earth with blood soaking into his clothing, his hair matted with dust and gore. The loyal miner held a firm hand on a wound that showed no signs of stopping. Fíli’s body was shaking, his eyes staring—frightened—at nothing but the dark, gray sky.

“I-It’s alright, the bleeding seems to have slowed…” Bofur lied through his teeth, lying to someone who was most certainly dead but not just.

He was lucky to have found the prince, his hair no longer it’s beautiful golden color. His body was found next to what used to be a few others of Dain’s army.

Fíli wheezed, his body still convulsing, catching the worried gaze of the miner over him. Bofur knew that look, the same look he’d seen on the riverside after Kíli had been shot, when Thorin laid in the jaws of the white Warg.  He didn’t move his head, though he fiercely wished to stand and help his own family.

“Kíli…he’s fine.” Bofur broke the deafening silence and wheezing, his voice still hollow but straining to sound positive “Thorin is alright, too!”

Beside the golden prince, Kíli lay still. His eyes were closed, as if he were just sleeping. That is what Bofur believed him to be, he was breathing just moments before. Thorin lay feet away, bloody and also very still, though the shallow rise and fall of his chest was a sign he was still clinging onto whatever strength he still had.

Bofur removed his hand slowly, his mitten was completely soaked and turned black with blood, and Fílis’ wound was not improving, the bloods poured out as if it were freshly cut.  He paled more than he was, and he quickly looked around.

“Kingsfoil…” he murmured, his head snapping back to Fíli, the prince shivered more, almost like a constant jerking of his muscles. He was going into shock.

“F-Fíli, I need to find kingsfoil,” he leaned in, staring into Fíli eyes “Just… _please_ , keep breathing.”

Without so much as a good-bye, the miner stood and hobbled off to the mountainside. The weed would likely be found there if nowhere else. It couldn’t be trampled or it would be useless. Bofur winded through each pile of orc, human, elf and dwarven corpses, not even flinching at the strong stench of coppery blood and rotting flesh.

His eyes frantically scanned each patch of grass and weed, leaning by each rock and searching beneath. He paced himself, leaning on a destroyed and burnt wagon—what was left of one. He found himself dizzy, but ignored his vision blurring in and out.

He knew the weed could be around here somewhere. It had to have been, the healers couldn’t have gotten to it in time, and the body count was a sure sign of that. A horrible and cold thought, he knew that much, but what mattered now was to save his loved one.

Pebbles clattered down as his boots scrapped along the side of a rock, his was slouching off to one side, and his feet were heavier than normal. Something was wrong and he’d not taken or given any care. He spotted a patch of weed a few feet away, Bofur’s eyes went wide and he almost sobbed in relief.

He took a step towards it, and suddenly his world went black. His body hit the ground with a dull thud, and slid down the small slope until it rested against another piece of rubble.  

_“Are you scared?” Fíli spoke, almost a whisper to the dwarf standing beside him._

_“I’ve been scared since we got here…” Bofur murmured his eyes uncharacteristically dark “This isn’t the place it once was…it won’t ever be.”_

_“But that’s why we’re fighting!” Fíli smiled “So that we can make it beautiful again…”_

_“Fíli…”the miner started, but couldn’t find the words. What could he say? That his uncle was going to drive his own nephews, his heir and family, into a war because he was stubborn enough to fall in love with a mountain and a pile of gold?_

_He couldn’t—he would not say that to anyone, especially Fíli._

_“Bofur, after this is over, we’ll be free to do whatever we want.” Bofur looked back at the prince, whose eyes were softer, his grin melted into a softer smile._

_“Would you…want to…?”_

_“I wouldn’t dream of anything else.” Fíli smirked, leaning in to gently rest his forehead against Bofurs’._

_“_ Men lananubukhs menu _, Fíli.” Bofur murmured, a smile creeping its way onto his face._

The miner woke, staring at his surroundings. It was colder, flatter and dimmer than he had last remembered. He tried sat up with difficulty, a thick bandage tied a splint to his left leg. He looked around slowly, only finding Bilbo in the corner of the room, his head hanging and leaning on his elbows.

“Bilbo…” Bofur spoke, his voice echoed in the large but very empty room.

The hobbit’s head shot up, rimmed red and slightly puffy. “B-Bofur…!” he leapt from his seat and ran to the dwarfs’ side, clinging to him as if his life depended on it. “You stupid dwarf…” He growled into Bofurs’ side.

“I know, I’m foolish.” He half smiled. His mind slowly worked back to how and why he was there. How did he get there from the mountain? He looked at his hands, thoughts sparking in his head, when he suddenly noticed how cold his hands felt. He focused and his gloves were gone.

“B-Bilbo…where’re my gloves…” Bilbo pointed over to a fireplace that crackled, the hobbits’ face full of regret and anger.

“They took them when you were brought here. They were soaked with blood, nothing could’ve been done to save them, I’m sorry Bofur—“

“Fíli!” He gasped, “A-And Kíli, and Thorin! Did they find them?” He started shaking.

Bilbo stared at him for what felt like hours, days even. His eyes glossed over with emotion and sorrow “Bofur…” he started.

“K-Kingsfoil! I was looking for Kingsfoil to help Fíli…! I was lying next to the patch, did they use it?” His voice lowered in pitch, almost like he was demanding to know what became of the weed he’d almost died looking for.

“Bofur, please.” Bilbo spoke, his voice edged with some sort of emotion, but the miner did not notice and went on.

“I-I tried to stop the bleeding…I think it was alright but…” he closed his eye “Thorin was alive, he wasn’t hurt that bad—“

“Bofur, please!” Bilbo suddenly yelled. Bofur looked over and suddenly froze; the hobbit had his head in his hands, nearly weeping. “Please…just stop.”

He no longer felt like stone, but like ash. Light and empty, a gust of wind could carry him away and he could do nothing to stop it. He would do nothing to stop it. “Bilbo,” he breathed, his voice shaking with each forced breath “Where are they?”

He wasn’t sure if he’d even registered what Bilbo had said before he pushed himself off the bed of stone and walked as quickly as he could push himself to the adjoining room. Thoughts raced through his head, all coming at once and so fast it all became one giant mess of emotions that could not come out. Happiness, joy, wonderment, anger, sadness. It was stuck as if just a word on one’s tongue.

He rounded the corner and stopped, his hold on the stone doorway tightened. The room was darker than most, small patches of light let in from the carved windows at the top of the side wall. The illuminated the room just enough for three stone slabs to be made out, with three bodies lying on each.

Numbly he walked into the dark room, his face holding no emotions. His heart felt as if it’d stopped. Bilbo stood at the doorway, watching him but saying nothing.

He stood by the first, looking down at what had once been Thorin Oakenshield. His face finally showed the years of turmoil he had been through. His hair seemed to have streaked even more silver than before, and his body seemed weaker just lying there, Orchrist clutched in his cold hands. His crown laid over his hands and hilt, lying there and reminding all who saw that this was once their king, one friend many had followed from the fiery desolation of Smaug, through unfamiliar and hostile lands to call home, and back to the place where it had all begun. He was the king under the mountain, both in life and in death.

He slowly moved to the next, where Kíli lay. His face had been washed of the blood, his wounds tended as best as one could. He was the youngest, yet there he looked much older for his age, the daunting quest and determination finally written on his face, aging him almost a decade, two even. His beloved bow lay across his chest, his pale hands held it lifelessly. This vibrant colt of a dwarf had met his end far too soon, Bofur thought helplessly. What cruel act of nature would do this?

His heart ached, painfully it ached. What songs he, Kíli and Fíli had sung around the fires at night. Such times he would watch these two young princes run about with such energy he wished he still had. Such bright lights lit their souls, something that would illuminate this old mountain. That light had flickered out in the blink of an eye, and now it was too late.

He numbly moved to the third slab, where his heart broke. He leaned onto the stone, covering his mouth with his other hand. Fíli lay there, just inches away. His face was cleaned, and he looked peaceful. It was cruel, making him look like he were merely sleeping. Would he have been, Bofur would sit and wait each moment for him to wake, to see his perfectly blue eyes again. Sapphires in the moonlight, he once said.

_“What?” Fili laughed, staring over at Bofur who looked pleased with himself._

_“Sapphires, sittin’ in the moonlight.” He repeated, “That’s what yer eyes look like.”_

_“You’ve seen them enough to know that?” The prince tilted his head, still smiling fondly at the older dwarf._

_“When I look at you, I look at your eyes.” Bofur said, looking out at the river._

“Fíli…” Bofur choked, finally the emotions poured from his head and heart “Fíli… _please_ …keep breathing…”

The quiet sobs reached across the room to Bilbo, who turned away from the scene and looked out into the chasm of the mountain. He couldn’t watch this.

Bofur stood there and wept, unsure how much time had passed before he was able to compose himself. Though he knew if he would say anything, he would break all over again. He couldn’t speak now. With his hand, he slowly and shakily reached out and took a small bit of the golden hair. It was cleaned and brushed. The softness on his cold fingers pricked at his heart like searing needles.

He slowly and gently started braiding the bit he held, taking each piece with care as if it were the thinnest glass. The braid was finer than he had even done to his own hair, but this was different. Finishing the braid, he pulled off his own silver cuff. It had been on his ear since he was young. It was just plain silver with small designs engraved, it was his first silverwork he had ever done. Tying a few strands around the end of the braid, he fastened the silver cuff around the knot and clamped it tight.

_“I’ve been thinking…” Bofur started, “of what flower you remind me of.”_

_“Flower?” Fíli mumbled around his pipe._

_“Yes, the kind that grows from the ground.” Bofur stated, fixing weed in his own pipe. “’M thinking…Sunflower.”_

_“Why a sunflower?” Fíli chuckled through a puff of smoke._

_“Because when a sunflower catches the sun it looks bright and golden and happy,” Bofur hummed, pointing the end of his pipe at the younger dwarf “Like you.”_

He sit slumped against the stone slab, head between his knees and silently letting his emotions free once more. The sun must have risen and set since he had woken up, and he would not move. Bilbo was no longer at the doorway; most likely the hobbit had left some time ago to be alone. He was very fond of all three of the Durins, Thorin most of all. The two had a bond that not many words could describe. The way the king would look at the hobbit was a mixture of love, pride and guilt. His last look was hat of sorrow and regret.

He stay sitting there in front of his One, the one who still held half of his breaking heart. Footsteps approaching caused him to raise his head. His brother and cousin stood in front of him, their faces sullen and sad. He looked at their faces with as much emptiness as he felt.

“Brother…” Bombur kneeled down and held his older sibling close as Bofur broke down again, sobbing into the bigger dwarfs’ shoulder. Bifur looked over the bodies and spoke a few last words in Khuzdul. Bofur must have heard because he only sobbed harder.

“Brother, please…” Bombur sighed “Bilbo told us you were here…you have to leave or Dain with send gaurds…”

“Bombur I c-can’t….I can’t leave Fíli…!” Bofur wept, shaking his head. Bombur gave a sorrowful look at his cousin, who just slowly nodded. With that, the two pulled their arms around the distraught miner and hauled him to his feet and guided him out of the room.

He pulled against them once he was aware he was being forcefully removed. “N-No! Fíli!” He wailed, twisting as much as he could in the other two dwarves’ grip to look at his love one last time.

_“You're right. It's better than my old one.” He said before slowly pulling back. “This flower won't die too.”_

_Fíli held a simply crafted wooden pipe with a small sunflower carved into the bowl and painted very meticulously._

_Bofur slowly touched his forehead to Fílis' “I'm glad. Though, I may still give you sunflowers from time to time.”_

The prince grinned and placed his hand on the back of Bofur's neck to keep him close, pressing their foreheads together. “I'll cherish them as long as they last. Longer even.”

_“And what of me...?” Bofur giggled quietly “I'm about as good as a flower, one day I'll die too. Hopefully I won't be sat on, though. Or forgotten in the dark.”_

_Fíli pulled back just a few inches and bumped his forehead against the other's. “No. Never forgotten in the dark. I'll cherish you above all.”_

_“I’ll cheerish you too. For as long as...well, as I live.” Bofur smiled, leaning forward and hugging the other tightly._

_Fíli chuckled and hugged him back, “Perhaps longer, because you're stubborn like that. We have many years together, yet.”_

 

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sorry if I've caused any sort of pain. This doesn't have a very happy ending. You can just imagine what transpired after he was carried away from Fili. However, this isn't the actual end of the story. Bits of this were directly taken from another story I'm working on that doesn't end this sad. This story is a more canon-linear story with some pairings thrown in. The other story is also post-BofA but it's happy and starts way after the battle.  
> Just having to say thank you for reading, and if you leave a comment or kudos, then double-thanks to you!


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